Thank You and Goodnight...

If we don't change, we don't grow.
If we don't grow, we aren't really living.
-GAIL SHEEHY-

So an Anonymous, But Fairly Nice Person just posted a very fair question to my blog.

"So this blog is pretty much dead, right?" they asked.

And it occurs to me that this person deserves a thoughtful response. If only because there's a single person out there who enjoyed what I put here, I genuinely appreciate that. I don't know. Maybe there's more of you lurking out there in the shadows, who might similarly wonder why I'm so silent. I thought a formal response might be in order.

Without making any sort of formal decision, I've decided to retire this blog. A couple of different factors have all come together to make this an inevitable decision. And a single inciting incident put it all into a clear perspective for me. I feel that this decision is inevitable.

Here's why I've decided to close the doors here...

First, I've undergone a bit of a job change. Working at the theater produces a different work-load for me, than previous jobs. When I first started this blog, I was working at a housing firm and I could spare an hour or so, a day, to write out a long, lengthy blog post. Something worth reading. I started THIS job in October, 2007 and initially I was sequestered downstairs, alone with my good friend, Jenn Kincaid. That allowed me some time to blog an occasional entry or two. But when, in August of last year, I got moved upstairs, right outside my bosses office, the end was in sight. It's difficult to produce a coherent thought when my old boss is around, much less produce any written work of any value.

Backstage, here at the blog, I probably have three dozen unfinished blog entries from August to now. I would start an entry, get three paragraphs in and then get pulled away by the work, unable to return. Those entries will just live backstage, never to see the light of day.

And it made it pretty clear that office hours are not good hours for blogging anymore.

Second, I originally began this blog as a response to a social change at my favorite social networking site, CIN. An online discussion forum for Chicago improvisers. A place where all of my favorite people met up to make jokes, post funny pictures and explore extended, online bits. Good times.

But then, some real douchebags in the improv community took over and made it clear that I (and a few others) were not welcome there and I decided to leave that board, rather than stick around and wait to be tossed out, publicly.

So, I started a blog. To have a creative outlet. And as a place to record the memories of my life here and my childhood, that I feared that I would lose to time. Of course, the more I wrote, the more I wanted to explore other things. I had a t-shirt contest once. I played elaborate jokes on people. I treated the blog like a newsletter about me, published for free, to anyone who wanted to read it.

And generally speaking, it was no holds barred. Everything was up for discussion. My past. My mistakes. My anxieties. My plans. My sexuality. My friends. Everything was open for discussion. With one caveat, I tried to keep my current romantic relationships down to a minimum. Girlfriends would feature in an entry, but they were participants in an adventure and less deconstructions of my actual relationships. Well, that was my intention, anyways. I can see that I didn't exactly manage to avoid it, all the time.

But with the addition of Facebook, I have a community of friends to interact with again. CIN, for all intents and purposes, is dead. The douchebags all fled in a single move and then a new crop of posters popped up and I think for some of us old-timers, it was a little depressing to hear the same old questions asked over and over again. And to notice the slow, quiet silence of old friends who didn't visit the boards anymore. As it turns out, all of those old friends are on the Facebook (in some capacity) so that's a good place for me to visit with them.

CIN no longer serves any function.
In the same way, my blog is less necessary as a refuge.

One more thing happened here, that is worth mentioning. I think it's relevant to my decision to close the doors here.

In late January of this year, oh, a month and a half ago, now, I had a really bad birthday. By sheer bad luck, the people that I am closest with were almost entirely unavailable. (Not everyone. I had a few close friends out for my birthday.) Let's just say that there were some faces that I was missing.

And there was a girl that I fancied a bit and that pretty much fell apart, right in front of my eyes, at the party.

And there was another girl that I had no interest in, whatsoever, who waited until I was too drunk to defend myself, before shoving her hands down my pants and molesting me.

And my solution to this terrible set of unfortunate circumstances, was the exactly wrong one. I walked calmly up to the bartender and asked him to knock me unconscious with booze. He obliged me. I even took the rare opportunity to allow my deejay to smoke weed with me, outside. So, I was functionally retarded, by the time I left the bar. Drunk, high, being molested by the exactly wrong person and feeling terribly, terribly lonely.

When I got home, it got worse. Joe was away at his fiance's apartment, as he is most nights now. The dog was happy to see me and that was a small comfort. I got home and I changed into my pajamas and went out on the couch to sit down, a whirlwind of self-destructive thoughts raging in my head. I sat down calmly on the couch and had myself a little bit of a breakdown.

I started crying a little bit.
And then I cried a lot.
And then the floodgates opened and I fell over into a fetal position and openly wept.

I questioned everything. I analyzed all of my recent decisions. I questioned all of my big life choices too. Who I was. How I got there. Where I was going. What I'd done wrong. I focused pretty hard on what I'd done wrong. In fact, I would say that was a central theme of the whole meltdown - the things I'd done wrong in my life.

Believe it or not, this stupid, silly little blog was a part of all of that. I felt ashamed that I thought that this blog was anything of value. I felt embarrassed that I'd ever opened up the doors for the general public to view it. It felt like the ridiculous and pathetic height of hubris to assume that I had anything of value to say and even worse, the tone-deaf expectation that anyone would want to hear what I had to say.

I mean, who does this? Who lives their lives so publicly? Who enforces such an artificial audience/ performer relationship on the people in their lives?

It just seemed to shallow and so vain and absolutely unforgivable.

To be clear, at the same time that I was questioning the purpose for this blog, I also decided that I had shamed my mother and that she probably only pretended to love and support me, when she really would like for me to just act like a normal person for once. So, I might've been trolling around off the deep end, a little bit there.

I cried myself to sleep on the couch. Alone in a ramshackle apartment that I hate. Surrounded by a larger city that I love. But as isolated as any man could feel.

The next morning, the hangover eventually went away, but the questions I asked myself stuck around. And I knew, without absolute certainty, that this was a dying proposition. I was probably going to end this blog, some time soon.

I was at the end of this two year experiment.

Some very good friends, Ian, Crescent, Kyle, Paul and Todd have expressed a genuine interest in this blog and what I have to say. For them, I tried to bake up a few verbal pies, between the end of January and now. But let's face it, they weren't very good. To them, and to anyone else out there that I don't know about, I encourage you to open other doors of communication with me. Come and participate with me in the half-hoakum stories that you read about here for a short time. There is always a place at my table for anyone who wants one. In any social setting. You're always welcome. (Even if you shove your hands down my pants when I'm too drunk to defend myself. Strike that, especially when you shove your hands down my pants when I'm too drunk to defend myself.)

I can feel myself standing on the edge of making some big decisions for myself. I am coming up on 9 years of being in Chicago. I feel like there are things here that I've not pursued, that I genuinely want. I feel like I am running out of time. I feel like I better get a move on, if I want to get things done. I feel like I am on the threshold of living somewhere else now, even if I don't know where that somewhere else is, just yet.

I also feel like this dumb zombie musical, might be my swan song. The last thing I direct or produce for a good while. I am enjoying the whole process, but there seems to be an imperceptible air of finality about this project. So, I'm accepting that and working with the assumption that there are other things for me, beyond this. Perhaps just not in the theatrical arts. The unforeseen challenges will be undertaken privately, without public documentation. Some of you will know well about them, because you'll likely be directly involved.

I guess this is the end bit here. Where I end things out.

Please allow me to thank you, whoever you are, wherever you are, for the times that you checked in here and read my dumb blog posts. Thank you for the very funny, kind responses. Thank you for playing along with me and humoring me, when necessary. And thank you for the lovely, private ways that you shared your lives with me. Sincerely, thank you.

So, leave a comment or two if you fancy it, close your web browser and let's meet up at the bar some time to share a laugh or two.

It will be good to talk about what I'm up to without two or three people saying, "We know this already. We read your blog."

It will be good to focus on living life, as it happens. Without partially checking out to make mental notes of a record that I want to eventually make of the event.

It will be good.

Cheers,
COB

"So goodnight, boys, goodnight!"
-The Decemberists-
-Shanty for the Arethusa.-

Some Sick Upgrades...

Forgive my clunkiness. I am re-learning how to blog.

Life continues, even if I am not commenting about it. Even now, I am so tired from a fucked-up sleep schedule that as I am typing this, I am thinking "Go to bed. Stop typing and go to bed." over and over in my head. But then another part of me feels guilty for the recent radio silence. So, we'll see if we can't hammer out a quit blog post.

Because things are happening. There are things to talk about. To tell you about. I don't know who still checks this blog anymore. But the people who used to check it, might find this of interest. In any case, it can serve as a Message In a Bottle for you, waiting until the next time that you stop around.

"Sickest Stories" continues it's mad march into it's second year. While you've been away, not seeing the show (no worries, we're all busy), our audiences have been slowly and steadily increasing. At a recent organizational meeting (did I mention that we meet once a month now to prep for shows and look at long-range plans for the show) our very talented graphic artist, Alan, pointed out that the show had about 10 or 15 people in the audience, when he saw it in October of last year. Every show since then, is averaging 40 or 48 people, per show. Part of the growth is that we're growing a little more liberal with our comp program. (We now comp potential guests and a friend and since there's no shortage of people wanting to do the show, that adds an additional 6 - 10 people per show.) Beyond those comps, though, we're averaging 25 - 30 paying customers per show. And we get very, very few improvisers in our house. So, that works out to 25 - 30 paying, actual theater-going audience members. Very exciting.

And they have good reason to come see our show. We've added pre-show videos now. Jim Burchill, our videographer, creates these insane 20 minute long montages of short-attention-span clips. One second, you're looking at a karate fight scene from a 70's kung fu film, then you see a flash of a rhinos erect penis and then, WHAMMO, you're looking at Frankenstein dancing with Go-Go girls. There's no rhyme or reason to it. Just random, sick, dirty images flashing on the screen with barely visible subliminal messages flashed at you from time to time. (The pre-show video is messing with you, encouraging you to go down on someone, anyone, before the night is up. Dirty, dirty, dirty.)

The guest lineup continues to be as eclectic and insane as you could possibly expect it to be. In addition to two regular cast members (my staff) you'll see 2 or 3 special guest panel members. Last month, we had a friend of the show, who happened to be on "The Apprentice" last season. Next month, we're looking to book a guy who finger-banged Paris Hilton (before she was Paris Hilton). I don't know if his story is true. That's for the audience to decide. I just want that story to be interesting. Looking ahead, I've got guest slots from our favorite Magician, a Briton who has the most interesting Thailand whore stories, a return from our resident nurse and ... it's too early to say it... but we might be booking a Major Celebrity Type to come in and do our show in April. Cross fingers for that one, kiddies! (I'll spoil it here first, if we actually manage to book this guy.)

We have a sponsor now, too. In exchange for a huge stack of comps (retail value - $480), we're getting t-shirts printed for the whole staff of the show. The sponsor is a new bar, opening up in Chicago. The comps will be prizes given out at their Tuesday Night Trashy Trivia contest. Because their trivia will be every Tuesday, we'll be giving out 16 comps, every month, to come see our monthly dirty, comedy show. I welcome all of those comp holders, as the show is currently booking 40 of the 65+ seats at the theater. Even if they don't pay me cold, hard cash, these new sponsor-guests, will fill out my crowd, giving my paying audience members a fuller house and a better show. In exchange for the comps, I get these kick ass staff t-shirts.

I guess I can go ahead and spill the design for the shirts. Alan and I came up with them. I really dig them.

This is the front of the t-shirt.


And this is the back.


Here's a close-up of the symbol on the front.


Our sponsor is ordering 8 of those. One for every guy on my crew, Me, Greg, Fuzzy, Alan, Jim, Mike and Harz. And one extra one for Edison Girard. Who did the original design for that chip logo. I never got to pay Edison for his design work. So, I thought I would give him Something Special to thank him for working on the show, way back in the spring of 2007. (Shh, don't tell him. He doesn't know that I am doing this for him.)

My plan is that these "Staff" shirts are limited editions. For staff only. The only way to get one is to work on the show. Or blow one of the guys in the bathroom of the Town Hall Pub to get his shirt from him. Work out your own deals.

In the future, if I do another run of shirts, they'll have some different design on them. The only way to get THIS shirt is to be working on the show, right now.

And if the sponsorship between this new bar and our show goes well and they ask for another batch of comps in three months, we can work out another deal, where they print up ten regular SFS shirts for me, in exchange for the comps and I sell those to the first ten, paying audience members. Same deal. 1 design only. Once those sell, we sell another design to the next 10 paying audience members. All profit, of course, goes to the shows festival kitty.

In addition to that bar, we're also considering sponsorship from a local sex shop. I am working out the particulars for how this would work. I'm considering asking them to pay for the printing of some new marketing materials for the show. (I sure would like an exterior vinyl banner for the theater on show nights) in exchange for product placement on our website, our programs and our podcast.

That's right. We will very soon have a podcast. Fuzzy and I taped the February show. We designed an aural soundscape for the show. How it would sound. How it would feel. We recorded some intro materials for the podcast and the first one should hit this weekend. The second one should hit Wednesday or Thursday of next week. Our goal is to take each show and break it up into two different 10 - 12 minute clips, record a little intro for it and then post them, every two weeks. Once we get a small library of podcasts, 6 to 8 of them, we want to distribute them through Itunes. (Initially, they'll only be on our website).

A podcast was always in the plan for the show. I'm a big podcast listener. I know how much I value the podcasts that actually make me laugh or think. I particularly like ones that post with regularity. Between Fuzzy and I, we think we can release our own promotional podcast every two weeks. The whole point of them, of course, is to direct attention (national attention) back to the show. Which sells tickets, which adds to the show's Festival Kitty!

Also, a podcast is a fun way for our guests to relive their time on the show. And share it with friends. It's a thing I can direct my friends to and say, "Here. Listen to this. I help produce this." So, I do have some pride in the creation of the podcast. Fingers are officially crossed that the final product sounds as good as I want it to.

One more thing, before I close this blog entry out. We've been approached by another theater to come produce the show in their theater, as early as July or August. Rent is comparable to our current rent. We would pick up significantly more seats and the theater will feature a full bar. The theater is in a high traffic area of town and could be a big, big move for us. At the same time that we might move there, we're considering going to a bi-weekly production schedule. Every other week. I certainly have enough guests for it. Audience interest will be the final arbiter of that decision, though. No sense in moving to any theater, if people won't come out and see you do your show. (The same theater is also asking for the BBR to come to them. I'll be passing along email addresses shortly. That show has it's own very smart set of producers to figure that out.)

Oh and did I mention that we're adding a guy in a Penis suit to talk up the show, outside before it begins? Mine will look just like the one below, except we want to put ours in a collar, a black bow-tie, white gloves and a top-hat. Call him, "Mr.Penis!"

Yeah, things are looking up for "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard" in 2009.

Cheers,
Mr.B



PS. Next time, I'll update you on SOTD, which is moving forward too!

Chasing Dragons...

So, the video for my adventures in Chinatown have hit and it actually looks pretty good. The editing is smooth and the clips are actually pretty charming.

Check it out!



Cheers,
Mr.B

I am Slide-Showy!

Greg sent me a link tonight to a cool slideshow of pictures that he's taken of me, over the years. He's got some pretty funny shots in here. My personal favorite is "I love ass". You'll know it when you see it.

Thanks Greg!

Enjoy,
Mr.B

Fuck Christian Bale.

Seriously, fuck that guy.

I just listened to THIS audio clip of Bale throwing a tantrum on the set of the new Terminator movie. (Before you give it a listen, be forewarned that it's NSFW - Loads of profanity.)

So, here's the setup, Bale is acting SO HARD in a scene of McG's new Terminator movie, that the mere sight of the director of photgraphy - doing his job and checking the lights - set Bale off into a tizzy. A pompous, spoiled, raging asshole rant about this other guy. He threatens to kick this guys ass. He demands that this guy get fired. He refuses to come back to the set until this guy is fired.

And the guy - "Shane" the Director of Photography for this gig - has the sheer audacity to - apologize immediately?!? HOW DARE HE?!?

The director, McG, is called over and he isn't sufficiently outraged to mollify Bale. In fact, nobody but Bale seems to realize what a terrible offense this guy has committed. Why, it's tantamount to Bale tearing down this guys lights! Which he also threatens to do.

You know what? Fuck Christian Bale. Nothing he has done on film, so endears me to him that I can easily ignore this. He isn't fucking Batman. He isn't the Machinist. He isn't a master illusionist. He's a bully. And an asshole. And a terrible person. The absolute worst aspect of actors and hollywood that I can imagine. He's it.

I can't imagine the circumstances where this type of screaming, shitty behavior is acceptable. It's because the people he's working with are professionals, that he didn't get HIS ass kicked by everyone there. (THAT is the headline I want to read - "Christian Bale gets his ass kicked by Director of Photography".)

So, I'm done with this guy. Absolutely done with him. His star might be earning him 20 mil+ for his films, but he's no draw for me. I could care less if he's in this shit-ass Terminator movie (Spoiler Alert: The real older John Connors is a coward until he's killed, skinned and then his skin is worn by a terminator with the mind of a hardened criminal inside. There, I just ruined the fucking movie for you. Just like the writes ruined it by ignoring everything set up in the first two movies and tossing it out the window. I just saved you 8 bucks.) I won't go see this movie. I'll talk other people out of it. And I'll tell them about this audio tape and send them links to it and they can hear for their own ears, what a rotten fuck Christian Bale is.

I hope Johnny Depp shoots this shithead in the face in "Dillinger". I know it's not historically accurate, but that's what I want to see.

You know what, I'm skipping that movie too. The "Bale Ban" is in full effect. Tell your friends. Christian Bale is a total wanker. Tell them why. Send them a link to that audio tape. Spread the word!

Fuck that guy... all the way to the box office.

Cheers,
Mr.B

"Color Of Your Blues" by Money Mark.

I finally broke down and bought this song off of Itunes.

I heard it in this trailer, a month or so ago, and it stuck with me. I would catch myself humming it, without knowing the words or where I'd heard the song. Yesterday, while I was searching for other music, I remembered the tune, remembered where I'd heard it, researched the title and then bought it off of Itunes.

The song is "Color Of Your Blues" by Money Mark.

And it punches me directly in the heart, every time I hear it.

I think it's sad and it's sweet. Some of the best songs are.

Color Of Your Blues - Money Mark

Check it out, if your heart needs a good punch too.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Chasing Dragons...

I guess it's okay to discuss this now. I'm trying to hold off from mentioning new stuff, until they solidify. But this has been bumped up, so I'll go ahead and tell you about it.

Two weeks ago, I saw an ad on Craigslist for an audition for the host of a new webisode series that's starting up in Chicago. The concept behind this series is, "The Daily Show Correspondants covering Nothing But Chicago Stuff". So, a localized "Daily Show". An idea that I really dig.

And, honestly, my thought was, "If I can get three or four of these down and they don't look like shite, I can use this as my audition tape to become an actual Daily Show correspondant." As with most of these opportunities, I sent out my interest and availability, with the expectation that I wouldn't hear back from them.

I submitted several headshots, a letter of interest, a recent resume and waited. A week later, I got an email from the producer/director, saying that he'd researched me on YouTube and liked what he saw and asked me if I wouldn't consider becoming "The Chicago Guy" for his series of webisodes.

There will be several hosts for the show. Each one representing a different area of expertise. The Sports Guy. The Club Chick. The Theater Nerd. The Food Eater?!? Me? I will be The Chicago Guy. Dealing with Chicago events, Chicago history and representing the cities perspective. I don't know who the other hosts will be. I think that they're already cast from other sources. Me? I'm the king of this pile of miscreants.

Originally, my first shoot was scheduled for Feb. 15th. At the Chicago Auto Show. Doing a segment called "The Women Of The Auto Show". And I still might do that segment. I have to tell you, I've been secretly planning some Hilarious Bits for that shoot, if it happens.

Today, I got an email from the producer/director of the show and their correspondant that they had lined up for this weekend, had to cancel. She forgot to ask for work off for it. So, they have a segment and no host. I've agreed to take on the gig.

The segment is set to be shot all day, on Sunday, from the Chinatown New Years Eve Parade. The idea is that the segment host will give us a little bit of history of the Chinatown parade and Chinese New Years and then spend the entire segment trying to get a position in one of those Chinese Dragons and actually walk IN THE PARADE! Or RUN in the parade. Because, if they actually let me drive one of those Dragons, we ARE going to run. I promise it.

I shot an email to Greg to see if he's free too. I'd like to bring him and his camera along to photograph the whole experience. In addition to the segments, the show wants to also maintain a blog. And "Behind The Scenes" pics might also make nice additional content to the blog until the segment is edited and ready to go. I'm waiting to hear back from him, if he's available. And furthermore, if the producer is cool with my bringing him. I'm sure it will be fine, though.

So, on this Sunday, in the freezing Chicago cold, I'll don my best business suit, long underwear and heavy overcoat, pick up a microphone and chase dragons in Chinatown. Sounds pretty exciting to me!!!

Cheers,
Mr.B

The New SFS 2$ Off Coupon...

I just gotta show this to people. Our crackerjack graphics designer, Alan Hawkins, prepped this for "Sickest Stories". It's the $2 Off Coupon. To be featured on Facebook and our own website. I don't mind giving off 2$ if it encourages people to come see the show.

And it just makes me laugh. I particularly love the clip-art that he used and the quote at the bottom.



And if you're so inclined, feel free to print one out for yourself and get some cash off at the Box Office. For any future production of the show.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Looking for something to do on Saturday night?!?

You might consider checking out The Belmont Burlesque Revue at The Playground Theater on Saturday, at Midnight!

The girls will be there!
Jack Midnight will be there!
I will be there!
Will you?

Here's the deets, Little Bird!
See you there!

January in Chicago. Bleak. Desolate. Cold. It's the month when the interminable slog of the season really takes hold--where we all realize that in THIS town, spring won't be popping by until late May-ish.

But wait! Never fear! The Belmont Burlesque Revue is here! Replete with numbers so hot they'll scorch the roof of your mouth! Comedy so hilarious you'll feel the burn just from laughing uncontrollably! Patter so rapid fire you'll bask in residual heat-waves from the explosive discharge of wit!

THIS MONTH AT THE BELMONT BURLESQUE REVUE
See! Naughty Natanya unwrap a classy new tease!
See! Lady Annabelle shimmy herself into a frenzy!
See! MsPixy whip up a cocktail of delicious naughtiness!

Not to mention the inimitable comedy stylings of Ricky Carmona, the searing wit of Jack Midnight, the heart-warming buffoonery of Second Cousin Joe, and the sheer steaming stunnery of the Amazing Tomas performing world-class magic!

GET IT WHILE IT'S STILL HOT FROM THE OVEN!

WHAT: The Belmont Burlesque Revue
WHERE: The Playground Theater, 3209 N. Halsted Ave.
WHEN: Saturday, January 31st, at just a smidgen after midnight.
HOW MUCH: $10!!! Less than one week's allowance!
IS THERE PARKING?: There is exceptionally crappy parking. We recommend the spacious and cost-effective Elevated Train. Just hop off at the Belmont El stop and skip two blocks east to our warm and welcoming bosoms.
SHOULD I BUY TIX IN ADVANCE?: Only if you want to actually get in to SEE the show. Unless you prefer to stand in the street outside THINKING about the show, visit this link to purchase in advance.
I LIKE TO TOUCH ALL THE APPLES BEFORE I PICK THE ONE I LIKE: Preview photos and video of the show at our website: http://www.belmontburlesque.com!

We'll keep a seat warm for you!

With a wink and a shimmy,
Your Belmont Bombshells!

Greg Inda Photography is Open For Business!

Greg Inda, Chicago's Best Undiscovered Photographer, is hanging out his shingle for his official-like headshot business. Greg is an INCREDIBLE photographer. Nearly all the shots on the SFS website are his. And he did both of my last headshot sessions. He's professional and produces good work and charges affordable prices.

Here's his official postcard. Give him your business, won't you?



I can't place my finger on it, but the fellow on the top of the black and white page sure is a handsome devil. Yes, indeedy!

Cheers,
Mr.B

Fear Is The Mind Killer.

Thinking recently about last Saturday's meltdown and all of the factors that lead to it, I remembered something obscure and vague from my childhood.

I remember seeing "Dune" in the movie theaters as a kid and having my mind blown up by it. I didn't understand half of it. But I got posturing and ponderous behavior and I understood that to these characters - these were Very Important Things that they were doing and saying.

I also remembered the Gom Jabbar Litany Against Fear. I remember Paul using it to protect himself from fear. I remember the principle concept, that we survive the things that we fear. That by being flexible, we protect ourselves. Even though, I couldn't remember the exact words, I could remember the central ideas.

And so, I decided, today, to look it up and get the exact wording for my own benefit...

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

We will survive the things that frighten us.
This too shall pass.

Worth remembering, when people are screaming for economic doom and downfall and when businesses are closing and jobs are being cut, left and right. This, too, shall pass.

Cheers,
Mr.B

2009 Birthday Wrap-Up.

I'm going to keep this one short. Let's just say, that this year, "Mistakes Were Made" and leave it at that. I made a few. Other people made a few. And they all culminated into being way too much more drama than I actually wanted for my birthday.

Despite latter shittiness, there was some fun stuff and some very cool stuff and I'm intentionally choosing to focus on that. For example, I would call this next picture "Fun Stuff"...


SHENANIGANS! (I particularly love the floral head lei, that Jenn saved from her party to share with mine.)

I would call this next pic, "Some Very Cool" Stuff...



That's a sketch, that my very talented friend, KAB, made for me. He took my current FB profile picture and turned it into a sketch. And even gave me a bit of a chest emblem, like a superhero. It's really amazing, what my talented friends can do. You end up with some very cool surprises popping up from time to time!

Even better, Kyle wrote a small message on the back of the card that I really appreciated. It says, "This is going to be one of the best years yet". I like that. I like that 2009, with the election of this new, progressive president and my own special projects, the year promises opportunities and fulfillment. I think it's ironic to note that this particular little note of confidence and reassurance came swimming up in the middle of an otherwise chaotic and terrible evening. I guess we can find pearls, even when we're knee deep in the muck.

I barely made it out of that party alive and intact. I am still recovering from it all, emotionally. I am trying to make sense of the night. My own actions and the actions of others. I learned some lessons from that night. Lessons that I'll be applying to future social outings. By avoiding the repeating of previous fuck-ups, I hope that I can help to make Kyle's prediction come true.

Cheers,
Mr.B

NBS on 10 years of Dr.Manhattan...

If you know who Dr. Manhattan is, without my telling you, then you'll geek out on how awesome this is...



Everyone else should pass on by.
Nothing to see here.
This wasn't just a video clip.
This was a warning.
Of how cool March is going to be.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Written By The Author...

I just figured out the title for my as yet, un-written autobiography...

"It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time."

Isn't that just perfect. The right hint of shabby optimism, coated in a rich caramel of regret and self-reflection. Everything seems like a Good Idea At The Time. It's only later, when the consequences arrive, that the scope of the Badness of the idea, comes into focus.

Yes, that's the title. And I'm sticking with it.

Now I just have to write the thing.
And also live a life that would be worth reading about.

Cheers,
COB

The Day After And The Day Of.

Hm, looks like I got a little maudlin, last night. Trying to reach hard for something, even if I didn't know what it was. Oh well, it's where I actually was, last night, captured forever. I'm going to let it stand.

Today, though, is a new day. I've slept well. My Facebook page is filling up with good wishes and there's a rumor that my cubicle might be decorated when I get to work. Also, my good friend, Jenn K. is taking me to lunch. So, today is shaping up to be a good one. No time for anxieties or introspection. Today, I am riding a wave of goodwill, propelled forward by the enormous circle of friends around me. I do not deserve such good friends. I love them all, nonetheless.

Loosen your neckties.
Enjoy a drink.
Today is for laughing, eating and living!

Cheers,
Mr.B

From 33 To 34 in less than 30 minutes...

According to this bit from Patton Oswalt, I get no birthday party for turning 34 in... oh... 22 minutes.

You Are Allowed 20 Birthday Parties (Album) - Patton Oswalt

(I should mention that some of this language is NSFW.)

I am sitting here on the 33 year old side of the age divide. I will be 34 in 21 minutes and I feel like I should have some sort of revelation. That there's something I've learned or did or said that will have some sort of relevance or permanence.

I'm sitting here, trying to think of something and nothing is coming to me. This time, last year, I was single. For a week. My girlfriend and I had split for the first time, after New Years Eve. And it was at my birthday party, where we got back together again. I remember being so happy that she was there. So happy that we got back together again. If you look at the pictures from that night... Here, I'll show you one...



..you can see how happy I am that she's there. None of the pain of the past week or so. Nothing but happiness to be with her. I'm so happy (and drunk) that I'm dancing. And I don't dance.

That was my birthday last year. Propelled from the single lifestyle, back into a relationship that lasted another two months before it finally flamed out.

In talking with Gilmore tonight, about something else entirely, I realized that it's a year later now and I'm still talking about her. Just last Saturday, Greg asked me about how that ended and thirty minutes later, I stopped talking. A well-polished, very well rehearsed, succinct re-counting of the sad story of "How I Was Never Wrong And Someone Else Was".

Now, sitting here on the cusp of another year ticking over ... in 11 minutes, I see how shameful and wrong that was. How disparaging of another human being it was. How I wish I had not done that. How I wish I had not been doing that for a year now. How I wish I'd chosen grace over my own petty weaknesses and been better to her. Afterwards. I wish I'd been better to her, afterwards.

So, I'm declaring a moratorium to that story. I'm shelving it away and never shall it be spoken of again. The next time someone asks me what happens, the answer that they get is... "It just didn't work out." If they get an answer at all.

9 more minutes of 33 years old.

Yesterday evening, in anticipation of this birthday party on Saturday, I watched an hour and a half of video of me from high school and college. After viewing the things I did and said, back then... I called my videographer and canceled the project. I hated myself (the person I was then) and not only did I NOT want to show it to other people, I never wanted to see that stuff again. I was an insufferable prick then. Worse than I ever could be, now. So desperate to be cool or smart or funny that I wasted time and energy, tearing other people down.

8 minutes.

6 minutes.

I couldn't bear to watch anymore. And I'm amazed that anyone who knew me then, would still want to know me today. Lord, I was such a bastard.

Maybe I'm blowing this out of hand, a little bit. But the fact remains that there was nothing in those videos that I would want to show other people, for any reason, shape or form. Even though that was my body and I did and said those things. That's not me now. And the person I present today, owes very little to that person. Life cannot be spent, paying penance for the self-perceived transgressions of the past.

3 minutes.

I wish me of today, could've given this quote to High School Me and let him chew on this for a bit. This is from Patton Oswalt's Graduation Speech that he gave at Broad Run High School...

1 minute.

“First off: Reputation, Posterity and Cool are traps. They’ll drain the life from your life. Reputation, Posterity and Cool = Fear.

“Let me put that another way. Bob Hope once said, ‘When I was twenty, I worried what everything thought of me. When I turned forty, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. And then I made it to sixty, and I realized no one was ever thinking of me.’

Time. And now, I am 34 years old. I am on the other side of that divide. And the last thing I did, at age 33 was post that quote from Patton Oswalt.

Words to take into 34 and apply to the years beyond.

Happy Birthday, Me.
Keep on trying.
Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
Forgive others for theirs too.
Try to learn from them.
Keep Moving Forward.
It's Going To Be Okay.

Cheers,
Mr.B


In keeping with the immediacy of this blog entry, I've selected the final picture of this blog from a file of pics that I keep on my Desktop, titled "Blog Pics". Throughout the year, I occasionally stumble onto a picture that speaks to me and I drop it in there. Usually, they go unseen. This one was pulled from that file and posted as the closest parallel to the themes discussed there.

And now, I post this entry, without edits, as close as possible to the cusp of 33 to 34. Preserved in the electronic amber of this blog.

Happy Inauguration Day, America!

Something feels different, better even, today...
Enjoy it.



Oh and, you an create your own Shepherd Fairey version of any picture you want, by going here. I also strongly encourage you to check out Paste Magazine's Top Rated Obamicons.

Some of my favorites from the Top Rated Icons include...









And of course...

Get a Case of Inauguration Fever!

Tomorrow is the Obama election.
Best Birthday Present, I ever got!
In order to get you all hopped up on Displays of Democracy, I thought you might like to take a look at this little video, here!

Enjoy,
Mr.B

DUREX says "Get It On"

Kudos to Kyle and Nat for passing this along to me. Hilarious.

Um, maybe NSFW. Watch it at home. You've been warned.



Cheers,
Mr.B

Get To That Choppa!

In researching a pic for the previous post, I ran across this little photoshop ditty. I chose not to use it in the blog entry. But it was a very close second. And I don't want to waste it. I really think it's funny. So, I'm posting it here, instead.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Babies. Babies. Babies.

WARNING: I should forewarn you. This post is about sex. And I have to use some sexual terms to discuss how babies are made (or not made). So, there might be some words here that could embarrass you or set off your work filters. So, you might want to avoid this post altogether. You've been warned!

One of the curious side-effects of joining Facebook is that you re-connect with your old high-school buddies and get interesting updates on who is losing their hair and who is getting fatter in their old age. (Luckily for me, I have both covered pretty well.) But beyond that, you also see who has married and who has begun having babies. Checking in with these people, 15 years after I graduated, these babies aren't newborns and preemies. They're two and three years old and are developing into little people.

And it makes me think about my own life and my own lack of baby.
And if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

For as long as I can remember, a baby was a thing to be avoided at all cost. A formless fear that peeked over the edge of the bed-covers at every intimate encounter. The little, diaper-wearing bogeyman. Just as scary as the thread of STD's.

Wear condoms! Or you'll have a baby!
Get your girlfriend on contraceptives! Or you'll have a baby!
If you're monogamous and you've slacked up on the condoms, pull out! Or you'll have a baby!

I'm sitting here and thinking about all the crazy places I've let my own orgasms fly - OTHER THAN in a vagina. Off a building roof. In a hole in the floor of a summer camp shed. In a wheatfield. Inside t-shirts, panties, neckties and once - a Superman cape. (Long story. Don't worry. I threw it away.) I remember, very vividly, the idiotic, half-collapse/ half-scramble that I've undertaken to avoid cumming inside a girlfriend. Better to collapse on the floor, sending the cat running, than to allow one spatter of my unstoppable man-seed near her womanly womb. So much effort put into avoiding this one particular fear - having a baby!

And I can't figure out how I feel so differently about this, compared to my former peers. Did they feel the same way that I did? Did they care less? Were they saying, "Eh. If I have a baby, I have a baby" and letting their jizz fly? Or were they trying to be careful, trying to avoid a baby, but UH OH - that orgasm just felt too too good to pull out and you fired your proton torpedoes into the wrong exhaust pipe and - blammo! You've got a rapidly expanding Death Star that doesn't explode for another nine months. And then, if you live in Kentucky and any of your parents are Christians, you better marry that Little Lady Death Star or risk getting your ass force-kicked by Darth Father-In-Law.

I wonder how many of these babies are intentional and how many were accidents.

I know it doesn't matter, in the long run. Each child is loved and welcomed into their families. But I wonder how many of these children were unplanned and how many were planned? And I wonder if unplanned pregnancies is just some unspoken epidemic that is going on, but that we don't talk about. Or if the voo-doo of religion has ill-prepared the young people of our country to think ahead and act responsibly and wait to have children until they can properly support them.

I recognize that having a baby changes EVERYTHING. It's huge.

No more farting around at "fun jobs". You have to work your ass off to give that baby (and baby-mama) health care. You have to bring home the paycheck and make sure the car is running smoothly and shop for birthday presents, Christmas presents, clothes for school, healthy food alternatives and diapers! You have to learn a new language - Baby Talk and not internally cringe, when you have to ask another human being if they've made a poo poo in their pants or not. You have to engage in serious debates with an angry, vocabulary-stunted, midget about why he can not go play in the yard with no pants or underpants on. Your wife's sexy boobs are taken away from you and given to the angry midget and the little bastards smiles at you, when he nurses, because he knows what he's taken from you. Tiny objects disappear from around the house and then show up three days later, deposited in baby-shit in a diaper! Insurance! Babysitters! Lunch Programs! Little League! The Ever Present Threat of Diarrhea!

You stop being an adult and a human being. You become a parent.
If you were ever cool or knowledgeable or hip, you become a worrywort, a wives-tale swapper and a disciplinarian. Once, you had "freedom", now you have "responsibilities".

I used to see nothing but the negative points of having children. The things I listed above and more. But I was always aware of the benefits too. The joy on a child's face when they figure something out. The sound of their laughter. Their sweet kisses. Or when you carry them around, while they sleep on your shoulder. Or the precious moment when a child unintentionally says something vulgar, racist or blasphemous. These are the magical moments that balance out all the drawbacks.

I get it.

I see the pictures of these old school chums and their new families and I understand that their lives are dramatically different from mine. I think we would both say that the paths that we've chosen have benefits and drawbacks. I know that even though the choices I have made have brought me new and exciting things, I am probably too old now to meet a girl, date, marry and have children at a reasonable age. (Assuming I have a child within the next four years, I will be 56 when the kid is 18. An old man, raising a rebellious kid, who is considering breaking my hip for me. And that's assuming that the years of red meat consumption and alcohol don't kill me before the kid graduates from high school.) In order for me to have the fighting chance that these other families have, I would had to have had my kids, a few years ago. Now, I am at a disadvantage.

My friends might tell me that the lives that they leave now, as parents preclude the adventures that I've been on. The places that I've traveled to. The wild spasms of irresponsibility that I've enjoyed. The incredible sex that I've enjoyed with many beautiful women.

Sometimes I want a family. Sometimes, I want kids.
Other times, I want to stay out late and produce my dirty, bullshit comedy shows for my audiences. Which is, I guess, a way of saying, that some days my life is pretty great. Other days it can be a little empty.

Comparing my own life against the context-less holiday pictures that I see on Facebook is a dangerous trap to fall into. Who knows, one of those kids might be the Anti-Christ! But who can tell from the pictures in the Holiday photo album? Every kid looks angelic and sweet on Christmas morning. Even the Anti-Christ. And when the Little Bastard grows to pubescence and he breaks the seventh seal and unleashes the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, spreading fear, disease, pestilence, war and death across the land - I'll be glad that I'm only fleeing in terror for myself. And not fleeing in terror for my whole family.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Voiceover Demo Recorded. (A Recap)

Well, I have officially recorded my first Voiceover Demo.
Saturday afternoon at Soundscape Studio.
I was there for a little over an hour.

I braved the snowstorm in a cab from the theater to the recording studio on the South Side. The weather was bad, bad, bad. Blizzard snowstorm and the sidewalks were piled up with eight inches of snow. My feet were damp almost all day long. And because of the terrible weather, I was ten minutes late to the studio. No worries, though. Kat Hart and Mike The Engineer were just wrapping up with Jamie and Mo, when I got there. I met them outside and we shouted a brief conversation across Wabash Ave.

Inside, Kat Hart gave me a big hug and said, "Don't worry. You're going to do great today!" Which is, i think, atypical for a producer/talent relationship. But Kat Hart is also a bit of a stage mother and a cheerleader. So, the extra attention was appreciated. I have to admit that I was a little bit nervous about the whole experience.

Downstairs, I was given a mug of water to keep my throat liquidated and introduced to Mike The Engineer. I saw the recording studio and the mixing board. In front of it, was a plate glass window that showed the studio. Red walls and big, grey pads of foam on the walls. The mic hung on a boom arm, had a windscreen in front of it and big, foam earpads on the headset.

I entered the studio and set the music stand to hold my copy. We had selected 10 possible commercial spots and 5 possible narrative pieces. The commercials were designed to show a wide array of dialects, characters and voices. British. French. German. African-American. Southern. Dad-like. And formal speaking tones. The narrative pieces were a little bit longer and showcased the fact that I could also take dry, dramatic text and make it sound smart, intelligible and coherent. That I could breathe life into dry text.

We set the order that we were going to work in and went from there. Katharine gave me a short pep talk and ran me through some vocal warm-ups, counted me down and we ran through the first piece. A piece we titled "Climate Control".

"You Can't Solve The Climate Crisis! It's too big for one person..."

As soon as the recording started, the booth mic clicked out of the headset and I heard my own voice, warm, rich and full. It sounded really, really good to me. Supported and strong. Professional. It was a voice that I could easily imagine in commercial spots and voiceover work. And I say that, not as a pat on my own back, but as a new awareness of how good a professional recording studio actually sounds. And maybe my first glimpse at how I can actually, really and truly do something like this... for real.

Well, of course, because I was nervous, the first take wasn't usable. Nervous energy actually tightens up the face and vocal cords. When you are nervous, your voice gets higher and flatter, as everything constricts. So, we ran some more warm-ups and loosened everything up. I thought to myself, "you can do this, kid. Just relax. Pretend like you're a pro and you've done this a million times," and that worked and I did relax, considerable. The second take of that spot was much, much better.

"The Brauhaus has been serving up Good Cheer for 40 years in Chicago's historic Lincoln Square Neighborhood!"

And that's what we did for the next hour or so. Commercial spot after commercial spot. In some cases, we didn't have to do a second take. In most cases, we did one more for safety sake and then moved on to the next piece. If I nailed a spot or did a take that we all loved, we all high-fived. I high-fived in the air and behind the monitors, I could see Mike and Katharine high-five in the air too, simulating a high-five through a plate-glass window and from four or five feet away. If I fucked up a take or a phrase, which didn't happen often, I would stop and we would all have a short laugh and then go right back at it. Just like professionals. Focused on the job, working efficiently, but having fun with it too.

We finished all ten commercial spots and Katharine kept a good ear for vocal range. We want to demonstrate that I have high voices and low voices. A wide spread of characters. Occasionally, Katharine would ask me to try another run at a piece, raising the energy or changing to a chest-tone, instead of a head-tone. I would make the requested adjustment and try another run at it. Mike The Engineer commented that he was really impressed by how easily I took feedback and adjusted my performance for it. That's something a lot of other voiceover actors struggle with.

"There are many unmistakable characteristics that make a Bentley."

We took a little more time with the narrative pieces. Making sure that we got them as tight and as clean as we possibly could. I worked on breathing deeply and using my breath well. I worked carefully through each piece, making the sentences make as much logical sense as I could. The last piece that we recorded was the first two stanzas from a Garrison Keillor poem that I've actually quoted here before.

"A summer night, and you, and paradise.."

I'm a big fan of Keillor and hopefully he won't mind that I chose him as inspiration for my own voiceover demo. We did three runs at the poem. Each time, Katharine would push me for a more intimate performance. Something smaller. Something breathier. Something more passionate. She pushed and pushed and in my final take, I pulled my copy up closer to me and leaned in to the microphone and pictured Someone Special in my mind and delivered the poem to her...

"A summer night, and you, and paradise,
So lovely and so full of grace,
Above your head, the universe has hung its lights,
And I reach out my hand to touch your face.

I believe in impulse, in all that is green,
Believe in the foolish vision that comes true,
Believe that all that is essential is unseen,
And for this lifetime I believe in you."

I finished and there was absolute silence. Nobody spoke. And then Katharine clicked on the booth mic and said, "I think that's it. Grab your water and come in here. Let's talk." I gathered up the pile of completed sides on the floor and my water and walked into the other room. I felt like I had completed something. Like I had done something, but I didn't know exactly WHAT I had done. When I got into the mixing room, I could see that Katharine was a little red-eyed from the poem. I think it meant something special to her too. Mike The Engineer had a weird look on his face. Which I came to find out was a look of surprise. Mike and Katharine talked to me, from that point on, giving me their feedback.

Mike said, "I think you have a very viable, commercial possibility here. You have a voice that does dialects and characters, very, very well. But you can also navigate your way through narrative pieces well. Most voiceover actors can't do that. They can usually do one or the other. But not both. That makes you a much more marketable voiceover actor."

Katharine said, "Honey, you don't know it yet, but you just laid down a really, really strong voiceover demo. It has range and quality and once we get done processing it and laying music under it, you're going to sound so, so good. I smell money, money, MONEY!"

Mike said, "I also like how your voices and character work doesn't sound artificial. On one hand, I know that those are clearly not your voices and indeed are not even REAL voices, but they sound very natural. Not like a voice that you're putting on. Those voices sound very "lived in"."

Katharine said, "You should listen to Mike here. While we were recording your pieces, Mike would say, "Wow. He nailed that one" and was laughing, here at the console. And this is an older man, jaded, who has heard tons of voiceover demos and commercial copy. If you're tickling his funnybone, then you're doing something really special."

I bounced back and forth between the two of them, trying to take it all in. My old, Southern-Baptist training made me want to resist the compliments. It was a little bit difficult to sit there and take in such overwhelmingly positive feedback. Surely, I'm not all that good. And didn't I pay for this service? And does this ego-stroking come as a part of that package? I was a little bit cynical.

Katharine asked me, "How do you feel about it?" I answered truthfully, "I have no idea. It's all so new. I'm still just taking it all in." Katharine and Mike assured me that I should be feeling really good about my work and that I should be proud of what we'd done there together.

Mike said, "I understand what you're feeling. And when we get you in, in two weeks, and you hear your own voice remastered and cleaned up and laid on a bed or appropriate music, I think you'll be really impressed with what you did here."

And that's the plan. I go back in two or three weeks and hear the finished product. I also get a CD of the tracks and then they email the Mp3's to me. Mike also offered me a cheap possibility of producing extra copies of my disk, if I wanted to go that route. I send out my tracks to voiceover agencies in-town and anyone else who uses voice-work. (Video game companies, audio-book publishers and other talent agencies.) I take every gig that I get offered, regardless of the pay, and I build up a library of actual voiceover work, to add to my forthcoming website. I begin laying down a foundation of work to get me future VO work. That's how it's done.

So, that was my first experience in a professional studio, recording my voiceover demo. I thought I would tell you all of that, not to demonstrate how excited my coach and my engineer were, but to give you all of the information that I was taking in, in the process. The whole thing was a little overwhelming. I'm still processing it. I enjoyed myself. I feel like it was a step in the right direction. One more move towards being the performer that I want to be.

Onwards and Upwards,
Mr.B

EDITED LATER TO ADD:
I would be a very ungrateful voiceover student, indeed, if I didn't mention that you, too, could do the same thing. My voiceover instructors name is Katharine Hart. She is available to put you through the same program. You can email her at a hart felt life @ live.com. (Add that all together to make her email address. I've split up to spare her from spambots.) She charged me $900 for the whole process and I was able to pay that off in installments. I bet you can work out a similar deal with her. Shoot her a message and tell her that I sent you. She will likely say nice things about me. (My friends, Jamie and Mo, are going through the program, right now. So, this is very doable.)

After The Affair...

Approximately two weeks ago, I met another woman.

I knew she was around. We'd flirted with each other before. A few years ago, I slept with her ugly sister*, but nothing really came from it. I mean, why not? Everyone else had. And everyone else had slept with this other woman too. "You should try this," people said, "It's addictive." they would say, with the same resignation of a weathered junkie. And I held off for a long, long time.

But then it was Christmas. And I was bored. I had a little free time all to myself and I brazenly walked up to this new woman, Facebook, and said, "So, what's all the buzz about, lady?"

And so she showed me...

I was avalanched under by friend requests from people I haven't seen in years.
Guys I barely knew in high school!
Girls that I lusted after in choir class!
People I worked fast food jobs with, before college!
College people I did drugs with!
Married! Unmarried!
Almost All Of Them, With Kids!
All of them asking the same question, "Where have you been these past ten or fifteen years?!?"

I made connections with people I genuinely did miss.
I made new friendships with high school guys that I didn't know very well at all, but who remembered me fondly.
I scrolled through gallery after gallery of Pretty Girls From High School, Holding Their Babies and I was struck by how consistent that is. The urge to procreate is a strong one, I guess. Or maybe the urge to have sex without birth control (because condoms remove sensation and/or birth control pills fuck a girl's chemistry up or just-this-once, baby, I promise to pull out) is just too strong too. And Wham Bam, Thank You Maam - There is a baby. Lots of babies. The Pretty Girls Curse.

Beyond all of that. Beyond the pointless chit-chatting and the "Hey, Have you Heard From This Obscure Person?" there were also the games and applications. On Facebook, I am a tough mafia guy, with a vast criminal empire. I also can trade Monty Python bits with buddies. I can also trade Old School Star Wars Action Figures with other grown men. I also have a "Shaun Of The Dead" random quote generator and I also have a new means to promote all of my upcoming shows. The perfect mix of fuckery and productivity. This little lady had it all.

And of course, I threw myself into the affair with an obsessive fervor. I got less actual work done. I "worked late" when I didn't have to... playing around on Facebook. I delayed working on my own shows. I spent an inordinate amount of time, at home, in my computer office. My DVR slowly piled up unwatched episodes of "Destroyed In Seconds" and "Extreme Home Makeover" that I have yet to watch. Laundry has not been done. My room is in desperate need of cleaning. Real life has been put on hold, for me to roll around in this affair. This regrettable dalliance.

Worst of all, I've neglected you, my blog. I knew that this was going to happen. When people asked me why I wasn't on FB, (Good Christ! I'm using Facebook jargon!) I would tell them, "Well, I don't want to have two different web presences to maintain. I put a lot of time and attention into my blog. That's where I want my focus to be." Which sounded perfectly rational to me, but to the wizened Facebook-savvy crowd, probably sounded like my admitting that I was afraid of the new technology. Truth be told, I meant what I said. If I joined Facebook, I would stop blogging. And I would lose the tiny, tiny readership that I enjoyed. Who continues to check blogs that aren't regularly updated?

And that's what happened. I joined Facebook. I stopped blogging. (And doing everything else.) I admit it. I got caught up in the whirlwind of online activity and I'm just now coming off of the crazy internets bender that I've been on.

Baby, I'm back. Here, I brought this jpeg of a bouqet of flowers for you. They're the prettiest flowers I could find in a Google search for "pretty flowers". This jpeg of "pretty flowers" is my way of saying to you, I'm sorry I've been neglectful. We've been together since 2006 or 2007 (Oh God, I've forgotten our anniversary, haven't I?) and we've had some good times and some bad times. And I took you for granted and I strayed, yes I strayed, and I want you to take me back.

Let's tell stories and lies to strangers again.
Let's capture my childhood memories and post them here again.
Let's tell sad tales of my break-ups, only from my perspective, and make my exes sound like crazy people again.
Let's post interesting of vaguely dirty news stories here again.

I can't say that I'm going to leave Facebook altogether. I have to know when people change their relationship status, the minute it happens. And I need to be able to promote my shows electronically to people in other states. But I promise to better balance my electronic doodling time, with the careful, thoughtful posts on my blog. I know where my focus is, baby. And you'll never go two weeks without updates again (except Christmas, but then those are the holidays, so that's to be expected). Our future is a bright menage a trois, with you, me and Facebook, happily co-existing together.

I know it sounds a little dirty and this might be too soon to ask, but would ou consider putting up a link to my Facebook profile? The idea of you two linking together... well, that's just Hot, baby. I'm not saying, do it, I'm just saying, think about it...

Cheers,
Mr.B

(* the ugly sister is, of course, MySpace.)

How I ended up in 3 Oaks, Michigan...

So, this is a new development.

Last night, my voice teacher and I were having our last phone rehearsal, before I go into the studio on Saturday to record my first Voiceover Demo. We talked about the material we've chosen. About how we have a BIG spread of commercial types. Big character choices. Different ages. Different cultures. Everything but different genders. (Maybe that will be a choice for a future demo.) Kat (my voiceover teachers) says that our hook will be, the engineer or commercial producer hearing my demo and saying, "Is this the same person?!?" That's what we're aiming for.

My goal is to pick up Voiceover work in 2009. Laying a foundation that I plan to build on, in future years.

After we finished that business, Kat asked me if I was available and interested in teaching a six week improv course at her theater in Three Oaks, Michigan. The person that she'd previously contacted (a very reputable and knowledgeable improviser, himself) had backed out, due to concerns about travel time and his own busy schedule. The class is slated to begin in February and would be 2 hours a session, for six weeks. Pay is several hundred dollars.

I checked my book and I could actually make time for this, after all. It would entirely eat up my Saturdays for six weeks. But that's a short time, if you think about it. In addition to the two hours of class time, I would also have an hour and twenty minutes travel, each way. Which is time alone to work on my show or my own projects or read a good book. I don't mind the travel. I appreciate the short periods of solitude, framing two hours of improv class. The travel time actually makes the gig that much more attractive to me.

I accepted the gig and emailed my improv instructor bio to her and she was printing the flyers today to begin getting them out to the community in Three Oaks, MI. (Which reminds me that I should get one and frame it at home, to commemorate this particular adventure.) She's anticipating that I will have anywhere from 8 to 12 improvisers in the class. I'll get to work next on planning out my class structure, as an Introduction to Improv and Improv Philosophy.

I know that I will focus on some instruction time, using short form games to explore basic concepts of improv. We will talk about trust and confidence and listening. About support for your fellow player. About balancing between bulldozing and leading the scene. About the power of agreement. About heightening the game. You know, the basics.

Then, when they master those concepts, IF they master those concepts, we'll move into longer games and actual scenic improvisation. I'll encourage them to be themselves onstage or variations of themselves. I'll give them permission to try new things and explore the games wherever it may lead them. Above all, I'll encourage them to have fun. To laugh at each other and at themselves. Because I believe that that's the primary reason why people take an improv class. To have fun. So, the "having of fun" will be another primary focus.

To that end, I don't believe that I can make people have fun. That brings to mind images of myself wearing novelty neckties and doing funny voices and that just reeks of desperation. What I can do, is remove obstacles for the performers so that they can find their own way to having fun. I can increase the possibility of having fun. I can encourage them to lighten up self-pressure and to go into each scene, anticipating that it will be good for them and celebrating successes, while understanding the failure, without dwelling on them.

Oh yes, it will be precisely the hippy-dippy, improviser love-in that you think it will be. I'm not just making better improvisers. I'm not making career improvisers. I'm not teaching the next Jim Carrey. I'm making better people.

While we all have fun...

And learn a little bit about improv...

For six weeks...

In February through March...

In snowy, sleepy, small-town, Three Oaks, Michigan...

SOTD: Soundtrack Secured, Choreographer Contacted.

I should just give up and resign myself to the fact that this blog is going to mainly be a tracking sheet for the show that I'm working on, from now through October, with some random other entries occasionally dropped in here.

Or rather, YOU should resign yourself to the fact that that's what this is going to be... for a while.

Here's the progress that I've made, since the last entry.

-The script is 98% formatted. I need to proof it and move onto the Scenic Breakdown. I should have them both done over this weekend. Once I have this done, I'll know song placement and cast size. Two big unknowns that are hanging out there, right now. Got to have them done, this weekend.

-I've started a Props List and a Costume List.

-I've written my Songwriter and haven't heard anything back from her, yet. If she bails, which she might do, I've got two backups ready. If I don't hear from her, by this weekend, I'll move on to my two alternates.

-Speaking of those two alternates, I'm meeting one of them for breakfast on Saturday morning. She's very excited to be working on the project. Kyle B. introduced me to her. I like everything of hers that I heard on her MySpace page. But the music featured there is nothing like what I need for this show. My plan is to meet with her, give her the lyrics sheet for one of the songs (probably the love ballad) and give her a week to see what she can do with it. If she brings me something nice for that number, we'll keep it in the show and then move onto other numbers for the show. And if it doesn't work out, I'll make a new friend in the music community and have an interesting trivia piece to include in this story.

-Sent a text message out to one of two potential choreographers for the show. I plan to talk to her tonight. I need help with "Don't Stop Me Now" and "The Zombie Shuffle." Hopefully, she'll come on board for this.

-Started graphic design for the show. Did some preliminary rough sketches for a poster and t-shirt design. I have a very rough idea for something and I'm hoping that Alan H. can turn my rough idea into something smooth, sleek and bloody. It's still very early in the process for this. I just had a wild hair up my ass about it and started work on it.

-Finally, Finally, Finally located the movie soundtrack, due to the Internet Wizardry of Mr. Ian K. It's all I've been listening to, since yesterday. I think I can use some of it for pre-show and bows. Also, The Blue Wrath is now my scenic change music, should I need it.

-Guess who has been shopping for "I Got Wood" t-shirts online? Yeah, this guy has!

-Potential cast members are continuing to appear, here on this blog and in real life. I think I've found two VERY good candidates for The Backyard Zombies! I also have leads on Shaun, Ed, Elizabeth, David, Diane, Phillip and I think I might have a VERY good Pete available. I'm still proceeding with auditions. I want to be available and open to the surprises that will come out of that process. But I could probably cast the show, right now, from people who want to do it. The first thing that I need to see from the cast - Enthusiasm For The Project. (All indications are good.)

-I've also been squirreling away some surprises for the show and the show's format. Direction ideas, staging ideas, etc. I'm intentionally not discussing them here. I want you to have SOME surprises, when you come see the show. I will tell you this much, though. I had an idea for a bit in the show that amuses me so much, that I had to call Gilmore, in LA and tell him about it. If all goes according to plan, it will be one of those moments when the audience will almost jump out of their chairs and cheer! It will be that cool!

Consider Yourself Officially Teased!

More Updates Coming, As I Get Them.

Cheers,
Mr.B